Glass
by Tsunderellah
Summary: For many years, the conversation would remain relatively the same, differing only whenever an extraordinary maiden comes of age. (The Queen ensured her place by killing her possible rivals in beauty.) The Queen would converse with her mirror and be assured of her beauty. One night, three years after the death of the King, the mirror replied differently.


Hai gaiz~ Welcome to Enchanted, my very first fanfic. This is a toxic mess of a story all spewed on internet paper and presented for your viewing pleasure. Here to read the disclaimer is the star of this story~

_Lucas_: In under no circumstance does Iridesca own, be it in whole or in part, me or any other characters in this fanfiction. All rights go to Nintendo, whose American counterpart hates me. But that's okay, cause you guys love me.

Ahahaa~ Enjoy the story. Don't forget to review.

_BETA'D by JstBFrnds_

_Inspiration Song: Bad Apple! (Orchestra Vers.) – Touhou Project_

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_**-Chapter One : Tale as Old-**_

**_..._**

As with most fairy tales, this story starts with the words 'once upon a time'. The only problem is that this story is neither myth nor legend; it is reality. And, that it didn't happened in the far distant past, it happened quite recently. I know, for I was there. This is a true account. While it has human emotions, such as jealousy and anger embedded within its storyline that binds it to the earth, it has that quality of magic and mysticism that lift it out of the mundane, much like many fairy tales do.

This story does not have your typical princess. Nor does it have your typical prince. It does have one small boy, often seen by the castle guards to be cleaning the staircases outside. This small boy had hair as brilliant as the sun, eyes as blue as the most lustrous of aquamarine crystals, and face fairer than freshly fallen snow. He was introduced by his father's court by the title of Crown Prince. However, the common folk knew him as Lucas the kind. There was no one quite as kind and gentle as he. There was no question he didn't want to hear, no answer too difficult to give, no one too small to acknowledge. He was to become a great king. That is, when he reaches the age of 18. Until then, he must be ruled by his tyrannous step-mother, the (current) Queen.

Lucas's mother died during childbirth. Lucas was the only one of three people to survive. His mother, the beautiful Queen Hinawa had died along with his twin brother, who was stillborn. The king grieved heavily for the loss of his queen and son, and spent a lot of his energy caring for Lucas. He grew up to be beautiful, to both the standards of men and of women. He was caring and compassionate, traits he most definitely obtained hereditarily from his mother.

However, when Lucas had reached the age of ten, his father grew concerned that his son is growing without maternal influence. He is also fraught with anxiety and worry that he is growing too old, and that Lucas would be left with a situation of not having someone to rely on, were he to die. So he announced to his kingdom that, while he will never forget their late venerable queen, his deceased wife, he is to look for another wife to dote and nurture his son. Ladies fair and noble gathered and tried to win the king's heart with their grace or their beauty, but none succeeded. It was apparent that the only thing they all were after was the prestige and the king's crown.

One day, a maiden from the frozen kingdom of Tundara presented herself before the king. Looking up to him with her hazel eyes, she had enchanted him. The King's court was also seduced by the young maiden's charms. She was graceful and polite and exerts a very regal aura about her. She was also kind to Lucas, often bringing him toys from her home. It was only a month before the King and she were wed. The first years of their marriage were blissful and fairy tale like. The King smiled more now as he watched his beloved son grow. His new Queen was nurturing and genteel. Life was balmy and sweet in their kingdom.

Until tragedy struck.

A rouge assassin snuck into the King and the Queen's quarters and had killed the King and injured the Queen. The guards who were watching over the doors of their Majesties were killed as well. It was a very heavy blow to the kingdom as they lost their venerable and righteous king.

Lucas grieved for the loss of his last family member.

The Queen, in her mourning clothes, took to the throne. Only then was the veil over her lovely face removed and her people saw who she truly was. She was cruel, unjust and extremely vain. Her kingdom suffered. The taxes she levied were too heavy, and the kingdom was plunged into a depressing state. People barely had enough to eat; the orchards that were once full of the sweetest fruits were dying. Even the skies seemed to be mourning for their cause, as a perpetual cover of grey blanketed their once fair kingdom. Tazmily was on its knees.

Her people cried out for help, but the Queen ignored their cries. She still lived a very lavish lifestyle, supported by her heavy taxes to her countrymen. Her subjects could leave, in fact, they would really love to. However, they did not have the resources to travel onwards to the nearest kingdom. It was also rumoured that there were bandits that crawled all over the deserted canyons between the two kingdoms. It was either die with friends, or die in the wilderness. The people had no choice.

The Queen was as vain as she was cruel. In her room, of which she has purged of her dead husband's items after the grieving period was over, hung an intricately framed mirror- an inconspicuous thing to normal people. To anyone of the magical profession, they would immediately sense that the mirror was no ordinary object of vanity. At the stroke of midnight, whenever the moon hides from her usual place in the sky, the queen chants a spell in front of her mirror.

"_Spirit of the mirror, hanging on my wall, come and answer- heed my call. I merely have one thing to ask, is the spirit of the mirror up to the task?"_

The spirit of the mirror, a mask of ice, answered her call. She then asked it a question.

"Mirror, am I beautiful?"

"Of course, my queen."

"Fairest in the land?"

"Of all the flowers that I see, it is you who blooms the most vibrant. You are a cultured rose in the land of wildflowers."

Pleased with the mirror's answers, the queen would bade the spirit farewell and prepare her royal self for a long, undisrupted sleep.

For many years, the conversation would remain relatively the same, differing only whenever an extraordinary maiden comes of age. (The Queen ensured her place by killing her possible rivals in beauty.) The Queen would converse with her mirror and be assured of her beauty. One night, three years after the death of the King, the mirror replied differently.

"Dearest Queen, while your thorns pricked many of the land's wildflowers," the Spirit said, hinting at the fallen women whose beauty invoked the wrath of the Queen, "…there is one that has escaped your grasp. Now, as your rose withers with age, this wildflower blooms. Cared for by strangers and friends alike, this flower will, of no question, outshine you, my Queen."

Her eyebrows scrunched together, glossy red lips frowned.

"Well, alas to her. Reveal her to me." The Queen ordered the mirror. This case would not be different than that of the other women. She would kill her, the one who bested her this time. She will not, never relinquish her hold on the crown of beauty.

The mask smiled, as if mockingly. "Tis no 'she', dearest Queen."

The Queen gasped. A man? A man has bested her in beauty? This certainly will not do.

"I care not for their gender. Tell me who it is." The Queen snapped, furious.

The mask of ice snorted, trying hard not to laugh at the Queen's rage. "Of course, only for my ever calm and beautiful Queen. The creature you seek is of no equal in this mortal plane. For his hair of golden flax is only contested in brilliance by his heart. His blue eyes display warmth that would shatter the thickest of ice. Such a fair face surely cannot be forgotten, my Queen. I believe you know who I am speaking of?"

The Queen had already an inkling of who this beauty was the moment the mirror mentioned his golden hair, but the shock of actually being correct in her guess was shattering. The Queen's mouth hung ajar, trying to fully process what the mirror had just said. Her pitiful disgusting step-son is more beautiful than she? Blasphemous! What a ridiculous thing to claim! Yet, she knew deep down, that the mirror was right. For five years she had watched the boy grow, and even though she had dressed him in rags and fed him nothing more than some day-old crumbs and water, he still grew to be such a magnificent being. Not to mention that he has the people's love and respect in his hands. Were he to know how to wield that power, then her reign would be over.

The Queen, having gathered her composure somewhat, bade the mirror a good evening. However, the evening for the scheming and sly Queen has only begun. She needs to get rid of her step-son, but how? She couldn't just kill him like she did the other women. She would have a full-scale rebellion in her hands. Her people simply loved that wretch. She couldn't have that. She needs her subjects' wills to be weak and easy to bend.

She could always have someone kill him. Like an assassin. That way, no one would ever be able to trace it back to her.

Smiling wickedly, she prepared herself for bed. Gazing at the mirror, currently void of its resident spirit, she laughed. Tomorrow would be simply delightful.


End file.
